


The black house

by MadDogMajima



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 10:23:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12862533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadDogMajima/pseuds/MadDogMajima
Summary: In a boarding school buried deep into the woods, students choose to seal a pact with the evil presence that lingers between its walls: they'll achieve great fortune, their whole life will be successful, and they'll forget all about the deal as soon as they get their degree.The price to pay? A small sacrifice, just a boy and a girl every year, to feed the black house.It's a fate worse than death, they say. But what are the odds of being chosen, after all?





	The black house

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I wrote a short story, 3k words in less than three days is a personal record for me. I greatly enjoyed writing it, it's been a nice opportunity to practice my unfortunately rusty English writing skills.
> 
> The idea came from a totally random and unrelated italian song, haha. As always, I suck at naming things.
> 
> And as always, English is not my native language, any comment or critique would be greatly welcomed!

The doorbell rang. Well, he was fucked.

Sebastyjan took his time, stirred the stew twice more, felt the smooth surface of the wooden spoon against his fingertips. Sure, he could exploit the ever famous loophole, grab the kitchen knife he'd used to chop the onions and plant it firmly in his own vocal chords. A suicide, totally unrelated, just a coincidence. His next of kin wouldn't be affected, yada yada.

He would be quite the liar were he not to admit how tempting the touch of the black blade had become, but still he covered the saucepan with a spare lid and set the spoon down on the small plate beside the stove. With slow, calculated movements he washed his hands, dried them on the pale blue washcloth, then folded it neatly, and let it hang from the chair.

Just outside his front door, Sebastyjan knew him well, Mathyjas was growing impatient. When he finally turned the key and unlatched the lock, his friend gasped loudly. Pity, an elegant yet inappropriate hat was squashing his beautful ashen blonde hair, damp with sweat, just like his forehead and reddened cheeks. Despite the chilly morning, he was only wearing a black shirt and a deep red waistcoat.

«You've been running.»

«What a nice smell.»

They both had blurted out a random sentence at the exact same time. Annoying. It had always been so annoying.

The silence that followed was deafening, both of them standing straight and unsure of what to do. Rather than being there as a top rank official of the Coven, Mathy very much looked like his nineteen year old self, late late to the lunch arrangement of his life. All panting and puffing, he removed his hat.

«Come in. Dinner's almost ready.»

«I'm not-»

«I know. But the stew and apple pie are too much for one person anyway. Least I can do is share.»

Mathy followed him through the hallway, past the closed doors of the unused rooms and into the kitchen. He shot a glance at the knife, but said nothing.

«Please, forgive the mess. I'd like to say I wasn't expecting guests, but you know that would be a lie. Anything to drink?» he pointed at a crate just in front of the table «Cider came in yesterday, I haven't had time to take all those bottles down to the cellar yet.»

«Yes, please. Just water... if that's okay.»

Sebastyjan shrugged «No problem.»

When the water had been poured into the green glass and a few ice cubes were dropped on top of it, Mathy looked almost ready to talk. Sebastyjan took a sip of cider, sat down in front of him and sighed.

«So, last year in this place and looks like I'm fucked anyway. Tough luck.»

«No...» Mathy was playing with his glass, using his fingertips to twirl it, deeply interested in the wet trail it left behind. With nothing to keep is hands occupied, Sebastyjan stood up to check the oven, where the crust of the pie was taking a deep golden hue. Just then, Mathy breathed in.

«The pie... are you not opening the oven?»

«Can't let the temperature drop.» to send a message, he grabbed the knife by the blade and, careful not to cut himself, placed it in the sink, just beside the other boy who flinched and almost jolted up to his feet.

«No, you weren't the first one the computer chose.»

That was a surprise. Sebastyjan glared at the pile of week-old local newspapers stacked under the broken leg of the table.

«Haven't heard of suicides or people running away in the last week.»

«The school's been trying to keep everything under the rug for at least a little while. I'm not even sure the parents or the guardians know. You haven't been on campus recently, but there's panic. And there's fear. Four suicides so far and you'll be the one to disappear in a few hours.»

«Who were the other four?»

«Abernathy, third year. Heard the doorbell, threw himself out of the window. Died before the doctor arrived. Chethy, fourth year, I phoned him. His room mate told me he slashed his own throat with a...» Mathy's chin pointed at the sink «And then there's the boy we met on the first night, the transfer student. He was in his brother's room when I called. His brother is on the hunting team.»

«Must have been a pitiful display.»

«But I can assure you, scrubbing his brans off the carpet was worse.»

«Will you high ranks ever find a way out of the loophole?»

«Like setting up a public draw? Will you be willing to bring some snacks? And maybe convince the girls they're not risking life and limb by trespassing to the boys’ side so we can discuss it over tea.»

«No way to work around the spell?»

«We lost one of our most powerful minds last year. Maybe he would've been able, but well, look at his beloved kitchen and pork stew and apple pie.»

«Beef stew. With paprika.»

«Whatever.»

Sebastyjan swallowed the last of his cider. Much too sweet, and much too expensive. He hadn’t checked the stove since Mathy got in: steam was rising from the stew, but it didn't need his attention yet. He turned back to the other boy.

«You said I was the fifth.»

«A sad occurrence, really.»

«False alarm?»

«Just the mailman at the door. But you know how panic takes a hold of you until you're too terrified to think straight. That poor guy chugged down lye.»

«A sad occurrence indeed.»

«You don't look terrified.»

«Should I be? Were you hoping to find me with that knife safely lodged in my throat, my soul nowhere to be found?»

«Well, one will never know what awaits on the other side, but whatever it is it sure cannot be worse than spending eternity into the house at the end of the road.»

«So you wished me dead.»

«Bastyja...»

Too late. When Mathy noticed, the old pet name had already escaped his lips, together with the usual, pleading voice, barely more than a squeak. Sebastyjan chewed on his lower lip, for the first time unsure on what to say, or if to say anything at all.

Mathy lowered his gaze, as he blushed, his cheeks turned redder and redder every second. With his nails, he tortured now the palm of his hands, now the cuffs of his shirt. A thread was loose, he pulled, hard.

«You'll ruin your shirt.»

Mathy sighed «You haven't changed a bit.»

«I'm afraid that would take longer than a year.»

He turned his attention to the oven, where the apple pie was carrying on with its brief, peaceful life, and set the timer to zero. The lights went off. Sebastyjan heard Mathy take a deep breath as he opened the oven slightly, releasing the steam trapped inside.

«Want a slice?»

«I want you to live.»

Well, that was sudden.

«I never minded dying.»

«You never minded anything. But it's not death we're talking about here. I've been wondering why you sealed the pact at all.»

Sebastyjan sighed as he begrudgingly left the reassuring heat of the oven to approach the window. Despite the double glazing, the cold outside was so intense that just brushing against the glass sent shivers down his spine. The wind slashed at the trees, the trees were about to succumb to the sheer power of the coming winter. Another school year would begin in a few days. From his secluded house, far away from the boys campus, even farther from where the girls lived their same lives, he thought himself long detached from their frilly existence. Now, a weird sensation in his chest was maybe trying to tell him that wasn't the case.

«Perhaps I wanted to feel part of something, for once. It didn't work out.»

«Yes, because someone didn't want it to work out.» there was a sharp edge in Mathy's voice, totally unfamiliar to Sebastyjan. Threatening, almost.

Not daring to go near him, Sebastyjan crossed his arms and pressed them on his chest, to quench that horrible, hollow feeling.

«How's Véronja?» he finally asked. A weight on his shoulders lifted. How long had it been there?

«At about this time of the year campus security is tight as ever. It will be a miracle if she manages to bring this year’s girl to the house. We've decided to keep our distance for now. But yes, she's okay. Her name wasn't in the draw because not one of the girls has ever chickened out of the pact.»

That wasn't what he wanted to know, he realized. Mathy must have caught a glimpse of the true meaning of his question, because a sad smile surfaced on his lips.

«In spite of the latest fashion, her hair is still long as ever.» he put his left hand behind his back, an inch below the leather belt «Like this, when she lets her braid loose. After your cooking stopped titillating her taste buds, she went back to stick thin.»

«Can't blame her, the food from the canteen's hideous.»

«And... of course her career has been stellar so far. Like everyone of us.» Mathy scratched the palm of his right hand, where the scar had disappeared almost five years before.

«You should be happy, Mathyjas. Your careed is going to be stellar, too. It was part of the pact.»

Mathy shook his head. He was sobbing. No, he was laughing. Looking more closely, he was both. Soon, his crackly voice had filled the whole room, the whole empty house. Sebastyjan bit his lower lip.

«And yet we, me and her, were still hoping that in here.» he clawed at his own chest «You still had... I don't know! Some kind of leftover affection for us? Holy crap we've been so stupid. You know what we did sometimes, in the shed? Instead of having sex, or anything else more pleasurable? We planned, we rehearsed, how we would approach you once we all got our degrees and were free to live our lives. We had different scenarios, one more absurd than the other, but all of them ended up with us three filthy rich, in our five story villa, sipping wine by the pool.»

He regretted drinking up all the cider so fast. His hand tingled, wishing to shatter the glass bottle, to let the shards draw blood. Sebastyjan inhaled, loudly, desperate to keep whatever was crushing his chest under control.

«You two will be filthy rich, in your villa, sipping whatever alcoholic drink you fancy at the moment, by the pool. My absence will be a minor inconvenience.»

«Go fuck yourself.»

«You know I'll be fucked soon, Mathyjas.»

«No. Either call me by _my_ name, or don't call me at all.»

A heavy silence descended upon the kitchen. Just the soft boiling noise from the stove, and the ringing in his ears. Sebastyjan clenched a fist, dug his nails deep into his palm. Mathy looked like an abandoned, wounded puppy, with his eyes moist and a lone tear sliding down his pale cheek.

«Is there anything you want to say?»

«Do you think this is a punishment?»

«The fact that I dumped you both last year?»

«The fact that Véro and I will never have another chance.»

Sebastyjan bit his tongue. He wouldn't let any impulsive, poorly thought out sentence escape his sealed lips. To what end? Last thing he wanted was to make it harder for the two. He gathered all his strength, but still he had to sit down the kitchen counter because his sight was clouded by black, convulsing dots.

«Judging by your mood, one would be tempted to think the house is going to claim Véro and you.»

 _Véro_ . Fuck. Mathy must have noticed, too, because he started.

«So, punishment for what?» he changed the subject. Mathy shifted on his seat.

«For that girl's fate.»

«She tried to escape and we were the ones tasked with the chase. Because she had trespassed in the boys campus.»

«I know! That, we had the right to do. We had the right to chase her, restrain her, drag her to the house where Véro was waiting for us. But, everything else...»

Sebastyjan wasn't sure if the cold shiver down his spine had been caused by a sudden drop in the the temperature of the room, or by his brain remembering the snow that had drenched his clothes on that night. On the night they met Véro for the first time.

«Funny how you said none of the girls had chickened out. Did you forget, or you didn't consider her? Or were you trying to forget?»

«I don't know. Maybe. Maybe I knew something bad was going to happen as a consequence, but I still did all those horrible things...»

Sebastyjan stood up. The pain caused by his nails biting into his palms bore an uncanny resemblance to the friction from the girl's torn uniform that had burned his skin.

«You were part the hunting club, on the first year. You remember the young dogs, before they were tamed, the mess they made the few times they managed to catch a smaller animal. We were no different.»

«We were beasts. Véro, you, me.»

Véro didn't touch her, but it was with gleaming eyes and a devilish grin that she had instructed them, like a macabre orchestra conductor. Only then he'd realized that, when it came to hurting girls, other girls were way more knowledgeable than boys.

By the time Véro had satisfied her thirst for punishment, the naked, bruised, bleeding girl was crawling towards the house. Suddenly, what was awaiting her looked no worse than everything she'd had to endure in the last few hours.

Like a drop of oil on a smooth surface, news travelled. From that year on, the draws either ended in reluctant acceptance, or suicide.

«We were, indeed. But punishment? By whom? Don't tell me you believe everything the Confessor tells you.»

«Only a cynical soul like you wouldn't believe him.»

«Has he ever told you about the house at the end of the road? About that third path laying between life and the world after death he looks so eager to get to?»

«Bastyja, please.»

«Or maybe he forgot. And so will you as soon as you get your degree and go into the world, reaping your fortune. People from around here, parents, guardians, journalists... they react in shock when a student disappears or is found hanging from a dorm room window. _Poor thing_ , they say, _such pressure, such a difficult school_. And maybe they were all part of the Coven, too. They had the same conversation we're having now only to forget it. If what the Confessor preaches is true, then, why doesn't his God give him some insight?»

Mathy didn't reply. He was staring, mouth agape, wide-eyed; Sebastyjan realized the room had become warmer, almost hot. With his open palm, he wiped cold sweat from the back of his neck. The collar of his red jumper was drenched, and so was his hair. He collapsed on a chair.

«See? That's why as soon as I saw your name being drawn I thought about our punishment. Because we, she and I, were desperate to convince ourselves that you left us just because you were all in all the same heartless, cynical asshole I met on our first year. But look at yourself now. Your own fear made you leave, it brought you to this abandoned village. You've always been terrified of our last year here because you sensed it would be your last, period. You...» Mathy jolted up, slammed his fists on the table. Sebastyjan shrugged. Or was it another shiver?

«You wanted us to hate you. You wanted us to be grateful you'd be spending all eternity screaming inside that house. You wanted us to look back at our time here and, none the wiser, think we did the best thing possible, in not pursuing our weird, emotionless third wheel who ended up killing himself eventually.»

«Speculating much, Mathyjas? I never said anything of the sort, or thought about it.»

Sebastyjan chewed the inside of his cheek. The taste of blood filled his mouth, he swallowed. Mathy was too close, and his own face too hot, while his fingers too stiff and cold. As everything he had planned fell apart, he felt the urge to pick the knife up from the sink and thrust it into his chest. But he couldn't. He couldn't because then there would not be another drawing. His next of kin, his companion sealed in blood on the night of the pact, would take his place. And if he had to condemn Mathy to a fate worse than death, let it be life.

He needed to get away from Mathy's piercing gaze. From at least an arm's distance, he was undressing him, picking him apart, depriving him of every last line of defence. Sebastyjan's eyes tingled, he would not last long.

The stew.

He felt like an idiot when he stepped backwards to turn the stove off. He should have added some water, because now he wouldn't eat the dry chunks of meat and vegetables even if that would have spared him the trip to the house. His stomach churned. Nauseous, he averted the gaze from the pan.

«We can do this, you know. Grab a suitcase, a few clothes, some food. Send a note to Véro. Disappear.»

«Please, don't. We'd be dead before we cross the border.» he held up his hand «You can't erase a curse with distance. And another student would be forced to take my place. Is this what you want?»

«I want you to live.»

«That's not possible. So man up and take it.»

He didn't mean to sound so harsh. Or maybe, it was Mathy's reaction that made his chest burn. Mathy was aching to touch him, to threw himself in Sebastyjan's arms, bury his face in the curve of his neck, kiss him, whatever to forget the inevitable. And yet he was forcing his body to remain immobile, with his fist clenched and his jaw stiffened. Even then, he remembered to respect the wretched, cyinical asshole's personal space.

Sebastyjan wanted to laugh. To have a last, hearty laugh with his boyfriend. But he couldn't. The electrical lamps turned off, the kitchen was enveloped in the dim light of the dusk. The sun had set, only a faint red hue painted the black sky.

«Time's almost up. I have to hurry.»

Mathy did not reply.

In silence, they passed through the woods, around the fenced campus. They both agreed it was best not to be seen by anyone, least of all campus security. Few dared to enter the labyrinth of trees, and for what exactly? To reach any other human settling apart from the abandoned village one would have to take a three hours bus ride. Going on foot meant getting lost, never to be found again. Every year, a student or two attempted to escape, or so the newspapers reported.

Sebastyjan hadn't even bothered putting on a jacket and now his jumper was damp and cold. Not that he would need a jacket where he was going. Mathy was staring straight ahead, careful not to stumble over rocks or fallen branches. It was a hidden path they both knew by heart, the path to the house. Mathy's breath condensed in little puffs of smoke, it was that cold. He too was shivering, only a thin red shirt to shield his body from the freezing air of the evening.

In the darkness, they proceeded. The only sound to reach their ears, apart from their own troubled breath, was the noise of dead leaves crushed under their feet. Even birds didn't dare flying closer to the house.

Then, the screams. They couldn't see the house yet, but they were close.

Sebastyjan didn't think he'd ever seriously consider Mathy's offer to grab Véro and run away, but now that blood curdling cries pierced his ears and filled his brain, his whole body ached to stop right there, hold Mathy's hand, and flee.

Pain, hatred, fear, tears: countless voices, countless sacrifices to keep the school's curse alive. Just like the school itself, the poor souls weren't allowed to die. Their suffering became fuel, they turned into cruel food for the cursed ground.

It had sounded so tempting back then.

A secret meeting, for all the first year students, to lure them into offering their life in a bet; good grades, good luck, eventually money and a luxurious future. The odds were great, just one boy and one girl per year. _That sure won't happen to me_ , they all had thought, _It's going to be someone else_.

The poor girl they'd raped and tortured had just signed a contract with the National Theatre, because of her exceptional talent. The night before, she must have been so happy.

And she ended up opening the door with the last of her strength, becoming part of that clump of screams and tears. Would he meet her again? Did anyone retain their consciousness, in there? He didn't know. Nobody knew. He didn't want to think about it, but as the house came into view, he found himself holding his breath.

Nothing more than a toolshed it stood, black and polished, in the middle of a clearing. Just dry earth all around, even grass didn't grow there. The small, windowless construction was staring at them. It knew it was about to be fed. It was expecting him, with trepidation. The screams rose in volume, then quieted. A moment later, another voice joined the choir. Another piercing cry, worse than all the others. A fresh soul. Fresh food. A person that would be forgotten as soon as everyone graduated.

The slap came so fast his brain hadn't time to register the pain. Véro's hands grabbed him by the cheeks, slapped him again. Her pale, thin face was tense, but her eyes were dry. Véro never cried.

He should have known she would be there. The last, louder scream must have been the girl she'd just shoved in through the door. It was ill-advised to entertain the thought, but he was hoping she had come to the house for his sake, too. To look at his face one last time before he disappeared and they forgot about his fate forever.

«Wake up.»

Another slap. He'd missed her slaps. He'd missed her slaps, her lashes, her leash and her bites. Sebastyjan clenched his fists, inhaled, and distanced himself from her.

«I'm awake.»

Véro was the pure portrait of perfection. Clad in her red shawl and dark green school uniform, she was beautiful. Her cheeks were red from the time she'd spent in the cold, as was the tip of her pointed nose. Piercing blue eyes never averted from his, never blinked. Chestnut hair, tied in a braid so tight he feared her forehead would tear, almost reached the low of her back.

«I'm sorry.» he whispered. It was meant to be merely a passing thought, but it escaped his lips and he could do nothing about it.

Surprise filled their eyes, and Sebastyjan couldn't stand it. He moved a step forward, passed Véro who didn't move. Maybe her gaze was meeting Mathy's now, maybe he was on the verge of tears.

«Bastyja.»

He didn't turn around. He knew if he did he'd be taking their hand and run away from it all. They would die, Mathy and he, but at least it wouldn't end in front of the cursed house, it wouldn't end now. But then, Véro would have to go on alone, her memory erased, thinking they'd both left her when she needed them the most.

This time, when he tried to speak, to say goodbye or to wish them good luck for their future, his voice got caught in his throat. Sebastyjan raised his hand to wipe a cold tear from his left eye.

_Last year, last chance to be chosen. What bad luck._

Time was running out.

_Maybe this really is our punishment._

The house screamed, as if in agreement.

_And it has to be this way._

He turned the cold doorknob and went inside.


End file.
